


Dance Unto the Night

by aliatori



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Ballroom Dancing, M/M, Polyamory, Secret Relationship, soft boys in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-11-08 07:37:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17977112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliatori/pseuds/aliatori
Summary: Noctis and Ignis share a moment and a dance.





	Dance Unto the Night

The Lucian Heritage Gala may as well be called the Lucian Torture Gala as far as Noctis is concerned.

“Go ask Iggy for a dance. I can’t deal with your lovesick face anymore, Princess.”

Gladio isn’t helping.

Noctis whirls around to face him, glaring once he’s sure no one can take a photo of the offending expression. “Don’t be a dick.”

Gladio tuts in an impressive imitation of Ignis’s scolding, but the smirk that spreads across his face is all him. “Don’t be a coward.”

“I can have you dismissed from your post, you know,” Noctis says casually. “Royal authority and all that.”

“For telling the truth? I hope not. Besides, if I’m stuck here, someone may as well steal him away from Lord Valerius. That guy doesn’t know when to quit.” Gladio’s voice is pitched low, his words sincere.

Noctis huffs out a breath. All of a sudden, the gold chain on his black single shoulder cape feels like it’s strangling him. He has no room to complain about sharing Ignis—Specs has been all but his since before Noctis was born—and yet it doesn’t stop the flare of jealousy deep in his chest.

Gladio, irritatingly perceptive to Noctis’ moods, notices. “Go get ‘im.”

“You’re okay?” Noctis asks. As much as he wants to stride through the dance floor and steal Ignis away, it’s gotta suck for Gladio to be stuck watching, and even though dating both of his retainers hasn’t been free of screw ups, he’s _trying_.

“You can make it up to me later,” he asserts, each syllable laden with promising heat. Gladio’s scar crinkles around his eyes as he gives his best (and most conceited) smile. 

Noctis scoffs and rolls his eyes, thankful Gladio can’t hear his heart beating just a little faster. “Keep dreaming.”

“We’ll see who’s dreaming. Now go, Noct.”

Any annoyance at how well Gladio has Noctis figured out disappears when he finds Ignis in the crowd. For once in Ignis’ life—and under direct orders from the King—Ignis attends as a scion of House Scientia rather than Noct’s advisor. Instead of one of his usual suits, he wears an outfit Noctis has never seen before, a tailored black jacket with slashes of Scientia green and gold across the chest. Other things are the same: the plain but crisp black slacks, the polished shoes, the glasses, the shock of ash blonde hair, the precise and elegant movements as he finishes a dance with Lord Valerius.

There are benefits to being a prince, and the way the crowd parts for Noctis as he cuts a path along the polished marble floor is one of them. The current song winds down right as Noct reaches Ignis, a feat accomplished by luck rather than intent.

“Can I steal a dance, Specs?” _Please don’t be mad_ , Noctis adds mentally.

The brief upward flick of Ignis’ eyebrows is the only evidence of his surprise. He clears his throat once and lifts his glasses up with two fingers. “Certainly, Your Highness.”

There are lots of weird rules about ranking and status within the Lucian court to determine who leads in a dance, but this one is simple—Noctis outranks most everyone in the room. So he lifts one of Ignis’ hands in the air, then reaches up to put his other hand behind his shoulder blade.

Noctis flashes a small, secret smile, which Ignis returns.

And _then_ they dance.

Old school Lucian music is _not_ Noctis’ favourite, but he recognizes the first notes of the song as the same song he and Ignis practiced to not three days prior. It didn’t used to be this way, but lately, it feels like whenever Noct is with Ignis, the whole world narrows to the two of them, Ignis’s presence erasing everything but the green of his eyes and the curve of his lips.

“You’re keeping your frame quite strong this evening. Well done,” Ignis murmurs as Noctis circles them around the dance floor, taking decisive steps in time with the music.

“That’s only ‘cause I’d never hear the end of it if I gave you noodle arms,” Noctis demures, chin lifted as he tries to project ‘dignified prince’ to any onlookers.

“I taught you better than that.” Ignis gives Noctis’ hand a gentle squeeze, so quick as to be half a dream, but his heart leaps in time with the touch.

“You did.”

As the song continues, it’s easy to pretend only the two of them whirl around the dance floor, the familiar, lilting notes of the waltz transporting Noct back to their session a few days ago. _That_ dance had ended in long, slow kisses, in Ignis drawing back with flushed cheeks, in Noct’s hands seeking out the buttons on Ignis’ dress shirt and popping them off in his haste, in hitched breaths filling the quiet lulls of the Old Insomnian waltz playing in the ballroom.

Noctis can almost picture it now: Ignis’ tie clutched in his fist as he pulls him close, his lips grazing the prominence in Ignis’ throat, long and elegant fingers curling around his bicep in response. He remembers swallowing down one of Ignis’s gasps with a deep kiss, his whole body burning with _want_...

“Best do away with that train of thought,” Ignis says crisply, one corner of his soft lips turned upwards.

“How do you know what I’m thinking?” Noctis challenges, a faint heat in his cheeks.

“It’s my job to know you as well as I know myself. Better, perhaps.” Ignis’ reply is so soft Noctis almost loses it in a powerful crescendo of violins.

He doesn’t really know what to say to that, so he focuses on finishing their dance with proper form, bringing them to a slow and steady stop in the midst of a black and silver marble sea. Ignis brushes his thumb against the inside of Noctis’s wrist before he lets go, the delicate touch igniting desire like magic. Ever the proper courtier, Ignis executes a perfect, smooth bow afterwards.

“Thank you, Your Highness,” Ignis says when he rises. _I love you_ , he adds silently, mouthing the words quick and clear.

“No problem.” Noctis manages a nod, not trusting himself to achieve the same subtlety Specs is capable of. They part ways, because their complicated situation isn’t something any of them want to explain at one of the most premier events in the Lucian social calendar, and a silent declaration of love is far better than no declaration of love at all.

But all Noctis can think of for the rest of the evening is the party ending, of losing himself to the line of hot, wet kisses Ignis loves to trail down the side of his neck, to the gentle, strong slide of Gladio’s hands down the scarred skin of his back.

To being back where he belongs—home.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, kudos and comments are greatly appreciated if you enjoyed. <3 Come find me over on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/AliatoriEra) to chat.


End file.
